Blog Archives
A Bit of Sunday Morning Nonsense
Minus your face, dear, you bring me to tears.
A spot of confetti seems to last years.
The grit in the ashes soon turns to brass;
Shelves in my memory shatter like glass.
Come here, my darling, and bring me more wine;
Bear with my foolishness, make my face shine!
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #236
More Poetry Pantry #497 at Poets United
Welcome Every Word
Face the other way and write, write these words down fast:
Seizes, eases, water, gathers; then, write current last.
Other words than these might do, or possibly, might not.
Thus be ready always, friend, to change your poem’s plot.
In pursuit of poetry, you take what fate doles out.
Welcome every word’s arrival with a joyful shout!
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #228
More Poetry Pantry #491 at Poets United
Unpacking the Caskets
someone unpacked the caskets
at the cemetery
and laid the bodies face-up
on the lawn
where they now lie
as though they were sleeping
tomorrow the gardeners
who know the ropes
will be mowing around the bodies
and then they will desert them
for a body should not be
out of its box
these are the rules
nothing has changed
from the beginning
when people first buried their dead
More Sunday’s Whirligig #158
More Poetry Pantry #400 at Poets United
My Father’s Blessing
When I toddled into the kitchen one Saturday morning,
my father was eating breakfast.
I stared at him, rubbing my eyes in astonishment.
“You comed back!” I exclaimed.
He opened his arms and I ran to him,
not quite believing he was real
until his arms closed around me
and he nuzzled my face with his stubbly cheek,
ten thousand tiny whiskers prickling my skin.
Dad was a student minister then,
and I saw him only on weekends.
He spent the week in Denver, studying theology,
then on Friday night he rode the bus back home
to our lonely outpost somewhere in Kansas.
His absence was like the absence of God:
“He’s there, but you just can’t see him,”
my father explained.
When he was older and wiser,
my father shocked me by saying,
“I don’t need to defend God;
God can take care of himself.”
He put his Bible on the bookshelf
and started preaching from The Denver Post.
One day he raged that another convicted murderer
had been executed in a neighboring state’s electric chair.
He ended his sermon on Sunday with a question:
“Would Jesus Christ pull the switch?”
Of all my father’s sermons,
I remember only this fragment,
and I hold on to it fiercely,
the way I once held the blessed bread
of Holy Communion, so I wouldn’t drop it,
or the way my young father held me
when he came home on weekends,
nuzzling my face with his stubbly cheek,
ten thousand tiny whiskers prickling my skin.
© 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
Seeking
Mountains at midwinter dawn, Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
By the day’s first light,
blackbird flees to the mountain,
seeking his own face.
Haiku and photo © 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Identity”
Face
Our Lady of Sorrows, Yuma Pioneer Cemetery, Yuma, Arizona
in autumn’s twilight
catching a glimpse of a face
on a weathered stone
~~ ~~ ~~
Not all sorrows are the same.
Text and photo © 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Six-Word Saturday
More Twelve Days of Mary
Odd Tales
~~ 1 ~~
How far we have come
from the land of stones and thorns—
how far yet to go!
~~ 2 ~~
birth pangs at midnight
the poem in my belly
kicking to be free
~~ 3 ~~
resting for an hour
in the shadows of the pines—
river in her heart
~~ 4 ~~
morning sacrifice—
how one feather on the shore
appeases the gods
~~ 5 ~~
Even a free bird
cannot sprout another wing
when one is broken.
~~ 6 ~~
dragonfly
singing down the sun
one more time
~~ 7 ~~
fencepost silhouette
pressed against the western sky
spangled with new stars
~~ 8 ~~
shadowy walkway—
a beggar without a face
stretching out his hand
~~ 9 ~~
Red paper lantern—
mistaking it for ripe fruit,
wrens peck at its flesh.
~~ 10 ~~
Near the Buddha’s feet
a lily of the valley
makes itself at home.
~~ 11 ~~
a day-old doughnut
drizzled with powdered sugar
beggar’s evening feast
~~ 12 ~~
afternoon monsoon—
sinuous lines of lightning
snaking through the sky
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 216
Mirror
An old King James Version Bible, open to James 1:22-24
Peering in the glass,
she checks her appearance, then
leaves her face behind.
Text and photo © 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Carpe Diem: “Surprise”
More A Prompt Each Day: “Mirror”
Which
Santuario de Chimayo, New Mexico
Clear glass or colored—
through which will the holy face
peer at me today?
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Ruby Tuesday Too
More Our World Tuesday
More Haiku Horizons: “Clear”
Lady Comfort
Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, Mission San Xavier del Bac, Tucson, Arizona
“That’s cool! I wonder if each tile was made and then matched or painted on the tiles after they were put together. How tall is this? Looks like it is on a wall high above your head. Your words are truly gracious for Our Lady.”
(Comment left by Joe Spado aka Spadoman, blogger at Round Circle, when this post was first published on 6 December 2011. Joe’s sudden and unexpected death two days ago has left many hearts bereft.)
My Lady Comfort,
just to see your gracious face—
fruit and bread and wine!
Text and photo © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More A Virgin a Day at Recuerda Mi Corazon
Magical Mystical Teacher 